Whip Guy
by idioticonion
Summary: When Ted accidentally whipped Marshall, he told him he could whip him back later. Spoilers for 5.01 Definitions - Warnings: Dark, BDSM, M/M slash
1. Whip Guy

It was cold in the alley. It made Ted shiver a little as he leant against the wall, both palms pressed into the cold brick. Carl still hadn't closed up, even though it was way passed last call, and the noise of conversation from the last few stragglers left in the bar drifted out through the back door.

Normal conversations, because nobody knew what was happening in the alley.

There was a sudden crack in the air beside him, causing Ted to flinch, causing him to bite back a whimper. The rush of the displaced air made his cheek tingle. So close!

Ted closed his eyes.

He could hear Marshall standing about four or five feet behind him, he hear his ragged breathing, the creak of leather as his best friend of thirteen years wrapped the whip around his knuckles.

It was _payback_.

It was a thing between them. When Ted hurt Marshall, Marshall got to hurt him back, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Since their first day of college. Marshall had explained to him that it was only fair, it was the only way that two dudes could live together and not tear each other apart. It was the simple wisdom of Marshall's Minnesotan upbringing, the lesson imparted by his father.

_Beaten into him by his father?_

Still, it had served them well, mostly. There had been that time when Ted had accidentally hit Marshall over the head with a baseball bat and Marshall had put him in ER with concussion in return, but mostly...

Mostly...

And tonight, Marshall got to whip him.

Ted wasn't quite sure how it helped, it just _did_ help. Marshall was one scary dude when he got angry, but Ted had never see him lay a hand on Lily. So, whatever slight disquiet he had about how much Marshall seemed to enjoy these little paybacks, he put it down to being a quirk. Just a quirk.

Everyone had their quirks.

The air beside him rang out again with another crack of the whip.

"Will you quit missing and get it over with, dude?" Ted said, his voice shaking. This was definitely going to hurt! Ted tensed against the blow that would inevitably come, against the lash of the whip against his bare back.

"It's not as easy as it looks!" Marshall laughed.

Ted had picked his back, as the place to receive the blow. He sure as hell didn't want it on his cheek or his chest. His back was hidden most of the time. It would be easy to-

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Hey guys, what's on tap-?" Barney's voice trailed off as he took in the scene. Ted, shirtless, leaning against the wall. Marshall brandishing the whip.

Ted turned around. "It's not what it looks like!" He said hurriedly.

"No, it's exactly what it looks like!" Marshall said softly, his words containing an edge of menace that Ted had never heard before.

"What the hell is... going... on..." Barney said, taking two steps back as Marshall turned and approached him.

"Just leave it alone, man," Marshall said, again in that low, slightly creepy voice. "Just turn around, find a cab, and go on home."

"But- But- _Marshall_!" Barney protested, amazingly holding his ground. "You... Ted? The Dominator 8000?"

Ted tried to interject. "Barney, it's just a thing we do-"

"A _thing you do_?" Barney shouted, incredulously.

"No... no... not like that!" Ted said, although he really hoped Barney didn't jump to the conclusion that there was anything sexual about this. Far from it! It was just one man... punishing... another man... with a whip. Okay, that did look a little weird. "Look, I hit Marshall in the face, so he gets one free shot."

"Sure!" Barney said bitterly. "Sure, Bro. That's why Marshall has the biggest hard on in the history of... the BDSM scene!"

Ted spluttered a protest, squinting to see if that was true. It was hard to tell in the low light but... holy shit!

Barney was right!

"Marshall," Barney said, stridently, actually shoving the big man in the chest. "That's it. You said you wouldn't do this again. You fucking promised, dude. If you're gonna take your... frustrations... out on anyone else than me, then find yourself another... sex monkey!"

He tries to turn away but Marshall held onto his arm.

"Sex monkey?" Ted coughed, half laughing. This was ridiculous. Barney was making some kind of inexplicable joke. For some... reason. That he couldn't fathom.

And Marshall had a hard on.

And Marshall was pulling Barney towards him while his friend struggled to get away.

Ted gaped.

Then something clicked into focus, the glass shattered, memories realigned. Of Barney repeatedly getting jobs for Marshall so they could work together. Of mysterious bruises. Of the two of them disappearing sometimes.

Of...

How long had this been going on, Ted wanted to know. But instead of asking, he backed away into the doorway, where it was safe and warm and light. Silently, he shrugged his shirt back on, and he tried not to notice how Marshall pushed Barney up against the concrete with his hand around the slender man's throat.

"It's for his own good," Marshall said, releasing their friend, who coughed a couple of times, but made no move to escape. "Someone has to keep Barney in line." There was a predatory gleam in Marshall's eyes.

"And you do that by having _sex_ with him?" Ted asked, hurriedly buttoning his shirt."And _hurting_ him?"

"It keeps Lily safe," Barney gasped, rubbing his throat.

Ted backed through the doorway, bile in his throat. It kept Lily safe, but what about Barney?

That was no excuse. No excuse at all.


	2. Expectations

_Set after "Of Course"..._

There's a hint of rebellion in Barney's eyes when Marshall slips inside the other man's office the next day. There's a rumble of anger in his voice and a sharp edge of jealousy, like the sounds of an approaching storm. "Why do you do that?" Barney whines. "Why are you encouraging Robin? You're supposed to be my Bro. If you're crushing so hard on Don then why don't you date him?"

Marshall's having none of it, and in two strides he has the other man pinned against the wall by his throat, almost sending one of his motivational posters crashing to the floor. "Shut your mouth," Marshall orders him, fingers scrabbling at Barney's fly, dragging down the zip and pulling at a handful of soft suit-pant until Barney gurgles with anger. "Belt!" Barney chokes. "Belt!"

Marshall shakes himself, sliding a finger under the leather tongue and pulling Barney's belt free of the buckle. He's still ultra-stressed from a morning being balled out by his boss and another attempt at giving up cigarettes and all he wants right now is to hurt someone. This is not the chain of screaming, although sometimes there's plenty of that. This is the chain of pain. He dishes it out, Barney takes it.

"Come on," he demands, his fingers tightening around Barney's throat, pressing into his windpipe. "You're mad at me, why not yell at me some more?" He grins, as Barney goes pale then a little blue and his throat makes a hollow rattling sound.

"Exactly," Marshall says, back-handing Barney across the face. "This isn't about you, dude, and your issues with Robin and Don. This is about me, and Lily and that jerk Scooter. Do you know how mad that Lunch Lady thing makes me? Do you know what I really wanna to do Lil when I think about that bozo's hands on her..."

Barney whimpers as his pants sink down around his hips and Marshall grabs his crotch. Barney shakes his head, blue eyes wide with fear, and Marshall knows he's not begging for himself. He's begging for Lily.

Don't hurt Lily, Barney's saying, silently pleading, the long column of his throat rubbed red raw from being half strangled.

Don't hurt Lily, he's asking, when Marshall squeezes, feeling Barney's soft cock and balls squish slightly in his fingers while he stares at the other man as if daring him to cry out.

But Barney's dick stiffens in his hand, it swells and pulses and Barney makes a little needy noise that means it's okay, he can take it; he can take anything Marshall gives him. "Dude!" He squeaks, and Marshall has to stuff his own tie in his mouth to shut him up.

Later, with Barney bent almost double over his own desk, and Marshall forcing his dick again and again between Barney's tight, gym-toned buttocks, he wonders if any of the women Barney sleeps with ever ask him about the marks? He wonders if Barney ever tries to explain the scratches and the bite marks and the bruises.

But really, when Marshall comes with a sighing spurt, and his mind goes blank and peaceful, he finds that he doesn't really care. Lily's waiting for him at home, and that's all that matters. And now he's pretty sure that Robin and Barney aren't going to get back together and put a stop to his and Barney's games, his wife is safe once more.


End file.
